


Pipe Dream

by abernathy



Category: All For the Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: M/M, it does not have linearity, this is from tumblr so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-07-25 13:31:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7534597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abernathy/pseuds/abernathy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short little 1-3k prompts I've been sent on Tumblr that I liked enough to share. Send me them at patroiclus.tumblr.com!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "You're jealous, aren't you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote 1.6k of neil being Oblivious™ this was a good prompt

Despite the scandal that was Neil Josten’s first year as a Fox, he did not get nearly as much attention from the media then as he did when he went pro. College sports were for college kids; this was the real world.

When he first signed with the Dragons, a team rival to the one his public boyfriend had chosen a year before, the press went insane. There was so much coverage about the rivalry and how it would affect their relationship that, intentionally or not intentionally, both Neil Josten’s and Andrew Minyard’s names became internationally known in the world of sports.

Being in the spotlight meant, amongst many things, that they had a lot of fans. Usually Neil received them well, even more so when they had stories of how inspirational he or his relationship were to the LGBT community, and Andrew–well, Andrew had learned to be apathetic, but polite. They believed in keeping themselves to themselves, anyway, so it wasn’t like there were herds of fans following them around everywhere they went–not usually.

Exactly two hours ago, Neil had been spotted going up and down the mall entering various clothing stores and coming out of them empty-handed. Correctly, some fans assumed that he was looking for presents for Renee and Dan’s birthday party, and that it would be fine to drop by to say hello to him. This was a normal occurrence, and Neil had become known for always being generally a good person when talking to his fans.

But today–today Andrew had come from the East Coast to spend the weekend with him and look for decent birthday presents for their friends, and he did not feel like being bothered. Though he and Andrew had split up looking for the gifts–Andrew knew Renee better, and Dan better, too, but he wouldn’t ever admit to _knowing_ anyone other than Renee and Neil enough to get them a good present–he was in a state of Cloud 9 and eager to get out of the mall and join his boyfriend, who he had not seen in weeks, in his apartment.

When he first saw a couple of girls coming up to him, he didn’t think much of it. Over the years he had gotten used to be recognized in the streets and eventually he learned to be fine with it. He gave the girls a smile, chatted with them for a few minutes, and signed whatever they wanted signed.

The second group felt weirder. There were two guys and three girls, and four of them had their Dragons jerseys on. Neil thought it was a freaky coincidence that he had encountered them like this, but didn’t say anything about it. He didn’t chat with them, but he signed their stuff and gave them polite smiles.

He had already sent out a text to regroup with Andrew and greeted five different groups by the time he finally found something he felt Dan would like (he had never been very good with gifts, anyway). He was now sending another couple of fans on their way and rolling his eyes the second they turned around. If Andrew were here he would have told him to just tell them no, but over the years Neil had learned what good publicity was, and he didn’t want to be flat out rude.

He spotted Andrew turning on a corner on practically the other side of the mall and let himself smile softly. He was tired from practice–Andrew had showed up a few hours earlier than he was supposed to, surprising Neil on his way out of the stadium–and he wanted to enjoy his boyfriend without having to look at anyone else’s face. Andrew gave him an unsympathetic look, but quickened his pace.

“Neil Josten?”

Neil let out the world’s longest sigh. He turned around.

It took him a while because of how tired he was, but finally he recognized the person standing in front of him: Tyler Keaton, backliner for the Rebels, was looking at him with a warm smile. Neil’s expression immediately changed; Tyler was named Exy’s One to Watch and Neil had been accompanying his season since the beginning.

“Hey.”

Tyler smiled bigger and put his weight on his other leg. “Hey, man. I see you’re having a busy day.”

“Tell me about it. If I have to sign one more jersey…”

“Oh. I was actually hoping you’d sign mine, but it’s fine, I’ll get you to do it some other day,” Tyler said, sounding only a little disappointed. Neil had to give him some credit. “I saw your game last Wednesday. Dude. I could really use a striker like you to get my defense skills up. Seriously. You’re kind of one of a kind,” he said, gently, and brushed his fingers on Neil’s shoulder.

Neil shrugged. “I can’t really do that. I’m pretty sure there’s a clause in my contract specifically for that.”

Tyler rolled his eyes and laughed loudly. “I get that. But hey, maybe if we just hung out one of these days you could at least give me _some_ tips… Huh?”

“I’m not really a backliner, but sure. I guess.”

“Great. I say we grab some dinner. There’s a restaurant I’ve been meaning to go to for a while but I never find the right company. I think you might just be it.”

There was a small period of silence. Finally, Neil said, “Okay. Not this weekend, though. I have plans.”

“Yeah, sure! Can you give me your number? I’m totally free on Tuesday, but it’s nice to check. We’ll go then.”

Neil felt a little weird making plans of going to dinner with anyone that wasn’t Andrew or any of the Foxes, but Abby and Renee had been telling him ever since he got signed to a pro team that he needed to put an effort in building other friendships. Tyler was a little younger than him, maybe by a year or two, and they didn’t normally play in the same city, but there was no concrete reason as to why he should say no. He nodded.

Tyler was midway through a smile and his fingertips were grazing up Neil’s forearm, only slightly, when finally Andrew came to stand beside them. Or rather, between them. He looked from Tyler to Neil, then to where they were touching. He held his gaze until Tyler dropped his hand.

“Andrew, this is–”

“I know who he is, Abram,” Andrew mumbled. "Kind of impossible not to.”

Neil sighed. He was used to Andrew being rude to people, but he knew the tone in Andrew’s voice; apathetic to mostly everyone, but condescending to who knew him well enough. Neil looked down at him with a frown. There weren’t many reasons Andrew would be bothered enough to let it show.

Quietly, in Russian, he said, “Do you know him from somewhere?”

“No. Let’s go,” Andrew pulled on his sleeve and began to turn around.

“Wait. I still haven’t given you my number,” Neil said, almost in an apologetic tone, as he looked at Tyler. Then, at Andrew, “Tyler and I are going out for dinner on Tuesday.“

Andrew continued tugging on his sleeve, but for a millisecond his hand froze. He squinted then continued trying to pull Neil towards the exit. “I’m staying ‘till Wednesday. It was supposed to be a surprise.”

Neil took in a deep breath. He dropped his gaze from Tyler and tried to look into Andrew’s eyes, without much success; his boyfriend was staring down and didn’t seem to have any intention of ever looking up. The corners of Neil’s lips tugged up. He said, “Okay. We’ll go out after you leave, then. He just wanted some tips on how to handle a fast striker, anyway.”

“I’m sure he did,” Andrew mumbled, then finally looked into Neil’s eyes and said, in his flat tone that always meant he wasn’t in the mood to joke, “No.”

And while he didn’t understand what it meant, Neil nodded. He looked from Andrew to Tyler and shrugged. “Sorry. We’ll catch up during a game, alright?”

Tyler looked as miserable as he probably felt. He said, “Alright. I get it. Old friends are more important.”

Giving him a crooked half-smile, Neil prepared to give some sort of excuse and was quickly shot down when Andrew turned to Tyler for the first time since this conversation started and made a show of entwining his and Neil’s fingers together. “Not friends. He’s my boyfriend.”

And just like that, Neil understood.

Holding back a chuckle, Neil gave Tyler one of the stupid handshakes all Exy players seemed to know and watched as Andrew ignored Tyler’s awkward attempt at saying goodbye. Neil still didn’t see how any of Tyler’s actions could be signals that he was interested, but he let the subject drop. The backliner turned around, half apologizing, half running away from Andrew’s glare, and didn’t look back.

Neil could see a new group of Exy fans looking from a safe distance, waiting for the right moment to approach, and shielded his and Andrew’s body as he went closer to one of the walls. He looked down at his and Andrew’s hands, together, and leaned in halfway. Andrew accepted the gesture, and closed the distance between them.

The kiss was short but intense, and when they pulled away, Neil was smiling.

“You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

Andrew scoffed. “Actually, yes, Josten. When my boyfriend lets other men flirt with him I tend to feel like that.”

“I didn’t– That’s not even fair, you know I– How was I supposed to _know_ –”

“You’re such a fucking idiot,” he said, but there wasn’t heat in his words. He pulled away and dragged Neil towards the exit, their hands still entwined. “This is why I hate you.”

Neil laughed. “Yeah, right.”

Andrew glared, but pulled Neil closer to him and looked into his eyes. Neil didn’t offer resistance. This second kiss was longer and more dominant. It was possible that Andrew was trying to show off.

Neil let him.


	2. "Stay the night. Please."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: *takes 4 days to find a context for this, writes 2k during class*

When Andrew Minyard first announced that he was going pro, three years ago, practically all teams of the National Exy League had stared to court him. His salary offers went higher or as high as Kevin Day’s–everyone knew just how much his love for Exy represented, and so convincing him to join in meant more than simply proposing “being a part of the best Exy team” (everyone knew he would make Court someday, anyway).

This meant that, for Andrew to choose a team to play in, it took him months. The offers came and went, flooding the mailbox at the Fox Tower–even more so when Kevin’s offers started–and causing heated debates among the team. Andrew had appreciated those, even if he hadn’t spoken more than a few words in each one.

There were some factors that helped narrow down his options: he didn’t want to be a starting goalie, nor make dozens of publicity campaigns. Not many teams would let him sit out of most interviews, either; that year Andrew had been pointed as Exy’s One To Watch, and everyone would want to have a taste of him when he went pro.

After reducing his options the maximum he could, Andrew had come to the following conclusion: he would either pick a better salary, better teammates (not that he cared about them at all) and a better court, or he would pick a shorter distance between him and Neil.

Considering Neil was going away from Palmetto after a year to whatever corner of the country, Andrew and Neil had thought best that he chose the former.

Wearing the Titans’ purple and gold didn’t come without its difficulties, of course. Andrew was a better player than most of his teammates and absolutely none of them understood the kind of person that he was; more often than not there would be a fight involving Andrew and one of the other players because they didn’t understand the concept of “fuck off”.

Besides, the Titans played in Massachusetts, and Neil–after months assessing his best options in a borderline obsessive way–was all the way down in Illinois. Though they tried their best to board planes back and forth whenever they had some time off, there was a time of the year–most of their year, it seemed–in which it was impossible to spend hours in the air and still enjoy time with each other.

Andrew didn’t care enough about things to hate many of them, but that wasn’t the case when it came to distance. He abominated it. Distance meant that he couldn’t wake up and see Neil drooling all over his pillow like the stupid five year old that he was; he couldn’t drive down a small stadium not known to many people and listen to Kevin obsess about Exy; he couldn’t glare at the cats who stayed at Neil’s apartment all those states away from his own; he couldn’t.

Andrew hated distance.

He didn’t know how to work with people if he wasn’t right there with them. Specifically, he didn’t know how to maintain a relationship like his and Neil’s if they weren’t actually together. He needed more. _Neil_ needed more.

Or at least that was what Neil had told him over the phone a week ago, walking the fine line between yelling and crying, before hanging up and turning off his phone. Andrew had sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. That night, he hadn’t tried to reach Neil again. There had been no argument; only a confession.

Andrew hated distance. He knew, matter-of-factly, that this couldn’t keep going unless they were face to face.

Except it could. Andrew had a game.

And so the following day to his and Neil’s talk, Andrew had tried calling again. His fingers itched with the contained urge to buy himself a ticket to Chicago. The phone had rang, rang, rang, but Neil didn’t answer. Andrew had sent Kevin a text– _Can you reach Neil?_ –and when Kevin replied that yes, he could, Andrew had given up.

Years back this would have been enough for Andrew to tell his team he was sick and fly out to Neil so they could try to fix things. However with being an adult came a sense of responsibility–he couldn’t just _not_ show up at a practice when they were so close to a death match, especially one in which they were facing one of their strongest opponents. Andrew had cursed the whole way down to practice that day.

Neil had called back the next day. First he texted Andrew to let him know that he was okay–as in _not getting murdered!_ –and that they would talk once they were both out of practice. Then, too many hours later, Andrew’s phone rang and through it came Neil’s voice, way too cheerful for the situation, pretending that nothing had happened. Andrew didn’t answer for as long as that went on–two days. Eventually Neil said they would resolve this face to face.

Andrew had figured Neil meant via Skype, because they were both at the peak of their seasons and didn’t have the time to resolve this kind of personal issues, but on Thursday night when he walked out of the stadium Neil was there, leaned against his new gray car, saying hi to some of Andrew’s teammates that had already left the stadium.

When Neil spotted him, he said goodbye to the other Titans and happily walked to where Andrew had frozen. His look was serious–of course it was–but he didn’t let it ruin their first time seeing each other personally in months. He was slow until Andrew uncrossed his arms, and then, taking it as an incentive, Neil put his arms around Andrew’s neck and kissed him so intensely they were cut off by Andrew’s teammates cheers. Neil laughed, flushed, and let Andrew take him to the car.

The ride to Andrew’s apartment was silent, not that either of them expected anything else. Neil turned on the radio and hummed to some of the songs, content with having Andrew’s hand on top of his over the gear stick. They unloaded Andrew’s things and brought them inside. Neil started to say something, but Andrew turned his back on him and went to get a couple of beers from the fridge. Only once they were both comfortable and had exchanged a few kisses Andrew rested his forehead on Neil’s and said, quietly, “Talk.”

Neil started, “I didn’t actually _mean_  what–”

“Shut up.” Andrew nearly growled. “You haven’t said things you don’t mean in a long time.”

Neil bit his lips in answer. He said, “Yes. You didn’t let me finish. I was going to say I didn’t actually mean that I need more. Because I don’t need more from _you_. But this… This that we’re doing–it’s not enough for me. I can’t stand to be at my place and you at yours and we’re both missing each other but we can’t even find the time to talk via Skype because we’re too tired or too busy all the time. I just.”

Andrew nodded, only slightly, to let Neil know he understood. He gently pecked Neil on the lips and detached himself from his embrace. He stretched out to get his beer and took a long sip from it. His face was carefully blank, but he didn’t bother to put on a mask in front of Neil. His eyes were translucent enough.

He put down the beer again and tugged at his own hair. “What do you propose we do? We can’t just leave the season to have romantic weekends whenever we’re missing each other. We have responsibilities.”

Neil whined. “I’m not saying I don’t know that. This whole situation just sucks.” He chuckled. “I bet Kevin and _Thea_ don’t have this problem.”

(Kevin and Thea were both too obsessed with Exy to consider missing practices to be with one another. Besides, Kevin had signed with her team when he went pro. But still.)

“Kevin,” Andrew dragged out the name, saying it like it took years away from his life span, “has issues that require medical help. Preferably someone with a PhD in something-something mental. And Thea has–slightly less issues.”

Neil smiled at this, then shifted so that his body was pressed against Andrew’s again. He put his arms over Andrew’s shoulders and gave him a kiss on the nose. Andrew put a hand over Neil’s lips but didn’t push him away. Neil said, almost in a whisper, “I can’t be missing you all the time. You were the first solid thing I’ve ever had.”

Andrew kissed him, properly this time. He took Neil’s thigh and moved it to around his waist, so that Neil was sitting on his lap. The two of them drowned among the cushions and Andrew let himself feel vulnerable under Neil. They kissed until they didn’t have more air to waste. Andrew hid his head in the crook of Neil’s neck.

“Stay. Forever. Here.”

Neil almost purred. “I’m in the middle of my season. I can’t just drop it.”

“Then drop it after. Come live with me.” Andrew bit down on Neil’s collarbone, gently at first, then harder when he felt Neil shudder. “Bring the cats. Play for the Titans.”

Silence.

“They haven’t made an offer.”

“You make an offer yourself, then,” Andrew said. “Listen, Neil. You’re a junkie. You know how this all works. You and Kevin are alternating between best strikers in the league, and everyone knows you and I play better when we’re together on court. They’ll take you.”

Neil sighed. “It would make things a lot easier.” Then he shook his head and moved so he could look at Andrew. “Okay. I’ll talk to my manager tomorrow after the game.”

Andrew nipped at his neck in the happiest way Andrew could, which was not very happy at all, but intense nevertheless. Neil gasped, then locked his fingers in Andrew’s hair. Andrew didn’t waste any time. He got up from the couch, his arms still holding onto Neil’s thighs, and moved them all the way across the apartment to the bedroom.

They were walking through the door when he said, “Stay the night,” and then, as he kissed below Neil’s ear, he added, “Please.”

Neil staggered. His body fell rigid and he pulled away from Andrew to stare into his eyes. Andrew continued supporting him, looking unimpressed, and waited until Neil got himself back together. This wasn’t the first time they had used this word–Neil had been trying, gradually and understandingly, to help Andrew fix some of his issues–but it was the first time that it was coming out of Andrew’s lips.

Neil closed his mouth and the hand that was in Andrew’s hair moved to cup his cheek. He pressed his thumb to the lower lip, red and swollen, and pressed, almost to make sure this was real. He pressed a sweet peck over it.

“I have a game tomorrow. Practice starts at eleven,” he whispered.

Andrew’s grip on his thighs tightened. “Plenty of time.”

“No, come on,” Neil smiled. “You keep saying things like this and I’ll actually stay. And if I stay, I’ll miss practice. And if I miss practice, then I’ll have to pay a fine. Do I look like I want to pay a fine? Also,” he said, his face serious, “it’s a _pre-game practice_. You can’t miss those.”

Andrew rolled his eyes. “Junkie,” he retorted, but finally said, nodding his head in agreement, “What time’s your flight?”

Neil squinted to make out the numbers on the clock of the microwave, all the way over in Andrew’s kitchen. He said, after some time, “In six hours.”

“Like I said,” Andrew mumbled, one of his hands tracing up and down Neil’s spine, “Plenty of time.”


	3. "Are you out of your damn mind?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [on tumblr, crzerny] scrumptiousbluebird asked: If your still asking for Andriel prompts: “Are you out of your damn mind?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im… Sorry I had to take liberties because I couldn’t imagine either of them saying these exact words and this so silly and short but the best I could do sry :/

Andrew Minyard had learned a lot ever since his sophomore year at Palmetto. What started off as a means to an end–freeing himself from the drugs–had become a home. His and Neil’s relationship helped him tremendously, too; and Bee. He was a different person from whom he was then.

Some things that changed: Andrew now had to cook all the time. Every meal. It was ridiculous, really, but necessary, or otherwise they would live off takeout whenever Neil was in kitchen duty. Andrew had also learned to run. After being transferred to Neil’s team and consequentially moving with Neil into a new apartment, he had found that tagging along in Neil’s morning jogs were better than worrying Neil would get jumped at every corner (in their city, 5am was way too dark to be considered safe). Later he learned to enjoy the run.

Oppositely, however, some times hadn’t changed. Neil argued that most things were the same. Andrew was still incapable of forcing himself to friendliness when he was in the company of someone he didn’t like; he still liked to deny Kevin things, whenever they saw each other; he could still pull the same apathetic expression from that first day in Millport, when he hit Neil with an Exy stick.

This was proven by the fact that today, after a few months without feeling the need to pull out that expression, Andrew had returned to it.

“You must be completely out of your mind.”

Neil had a half smile on that he didn’t bother trying to hide. He knew that his best chances of survival consisted on that smile being gone, but after these many years living with that gaze, he had grown immune to it. He shrugged and said, “I don’t see why you’re acting like this. You said you didn’t want to bother, so I took the problem to our friends. It was a voting. You can’t back out on a voting.”

Andrew didn’t think those words were worth a reply. He turned around and threw himself on the couch. One of the cats–the fat one–was already curled in the cushion right behind him. He didn’t acknowledge the cat then, much like he hadn’t acknowledged it most times.

He was a hard person to get through, even with animals. So far the cats hadn’t done anything but meow and hiss at him. Unless they started doing something more interesting-–more interesting than whining, that is–-he was going to continue to treat them the same way he did most people: unimpressed.

Neil, of course, thought that was hilarious.

He said, “There’s a bet going on that you’d react exactly like that. I mean, _exactly_ like that.”

“I hope you’re not in on it.”

“Of course not,” Neil said, his smile not budging even as he forced out an offended tone. “You can’t bet on yourself. That’s the only rule.”

“You wouldn’t be betting on yourself. You’d be betting on me.”

Neil half-whined. One of the cats–the grumpy one–curled himself around his left leg. “Okay. Two rules. You can’t bet on yourself and,” he let his smile get big now, “you and I can’t bet on each other.”

Andrew squinted. “Whoever made these rules is pathetic.”

“Allison made the rules.”

“My point stands.”

Andrew rolled on the couch so he could look at Neil, who was still standing near the entrance to their apartment. His eyes didn’t fall once on the cat closer to him, but he went out of his way to keep from crushing the cushion the cat was in.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

Neil raised a brow. “It’s just funny.”

“It’s not. It’s not funny,” Andrew spat. Finally his gaze dropped to the fat cat and then to the red cat. “I’d rather we stick to what we were using before.”

Bending down to get the red cat on his lap, Neil couldn’t contain a chuckle. What they were using before was actually Cat One and Cat Two, but it had only been a couple of days because they needed to take some time to figure out names. Andrew insisted that it wasn’t important and that they could respond to those names just fine, but also didn’t say anything when Neil proposed to talk about it with people who actually cared–at the time he’d meant the Foxes, though in reality the only ones who cared, truly, were Nicky, Matt and Dan.

He grabbed the other cat as he was making his way around the couch and cooed when it meowed at him. Slowly, Neil sat down beside Andrew and watched as the cats curled around him. The fat one went back to its original position over the cushion behind to Andrew, maybe even a little even a little closer to him. Andrew glared but turned back to look at Neil.

“I’m gonna keep using their names all the time until you stop pouting,” Neil smiled. “Come on.”

Andrew didn’t budge.

Neil turned to look into the fat one’s eyes and said, “It’s okay, Sir Fat Cat McCatterson, I’ll love you until then.”


	4. "Are you wearing my shirt?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was…supposed to be cute n short but instead it turned into angst and 2565 words

After living most of his life as a runaway, someone without a name that could be said at every corner whenever his attention was needed, Neil Josten had convinced himself that having a routine was nothing short of a blessing. Catching himself with paranoid thoughts and being able to let go of them was probably one of the best sensations he had ever had. Building himself up from the ground had been worth it.

Neil told himself this every day when he woke up. Sometimes he’d still look beside him on the bed and expect to see his mother clinging onto him, one hand under her pillow where she kept her gun and tense shoulders though she had trained herself to get the most out of a few hours asleep, and instead found nothing but the plain white of his bedroom wall at the Fox Tower. When he looked down and saw that Kevin and Nicky were still asleep on the bunk on the other side of the room, and instantly knew that Andrew was under him, safe and sound, with no threats from his father or the Moriyamas or anyone else that could bring them harm, Neil surprised himself by realizing this was what happiness felt like.

He was an early sleeper and the others would only be waking up by the time he got back from his morning run. When he came back someone would have already brewed coffee and there would be a mug waiting for him over the counter, prepared just the way he liked it. Andrew would be in the bedroom, maybe reading or smoking a cigarette, and he’d greet him with fake disinterest. Neil loved that he knew that.

Today, however—today had been a different day from the minute he woke up. Today when he lay on his bed at the early morning hours, when the sun hadn’t even come up, he’d had Andrew lying next to him, their fingers and legs entwined, and new hickeys branded on his neck. His breathing had grown heavier as the hours flew by, and the grip on his hands, tighter. Today was the birthday of someone long gone, and Neil didn’t know how to handle it.

“I don’t feel real,” he admitted to Andrew once the clock beeped to announce four in the morning. His voice was still groggy with sleep, having woken up only minutes before, but his heart beat inside his chest hard and loud. “I’m afraid he’ll come back.”

Andrew, as he had been doing since the previous night, whispered that he was Neil Josten, and absolutely no one else. Today was a day no different from the others. Today was not his birthday. His parents were dead, and his new family would be expecting Neil Josten at court once the day restarted.

At five, the time Neil was usually waking up to start his morning, Andrew nudged him and asked if he planned on going to run. When Neil said he didn’t, Andrew nodded and then followed it with a sigh. He said, after a moment, “Nathaniel Wesninski died in Baltimore, and so did his father. They are not worth bringing back from the dead, Neil.” Neil, Neil, Neil. Andrew had been ending every sentence with that name.

At six, after nearly an hour of silence, Neil turned on the bed, half on his side, to stare at Andrew. Andrew didn’t comment that he was staring; he simply moved to do the same, untangling their hands and bringing one of his own to cup his cheek on the pillow. He brought the other to Neil’s scars, his eyes not flickering once, even as his mouth parted.

“Yes or no?” Andrew asked, in a quietness that was unusual to him.

Neil swallowed and said, “Always yes,” and he certainly wasn’t expecting what came next. His lips had parted, too, same as Andrew’s, and he had closed his eyes as he waited for a kiss that didn’t come. Andrew moved beside him on the bed and slowly, gently, almost, his lips came to meet Neil’s cheekbone, where the ugliest scar, the one brought on by a dashboard lighter, was. When a second kiss on the cheek came and Andrew’s mouth was warm and wet, Neil realized he had been crying.

At seven, Andrew asked for a yes or a no again, and this time it had a whole different meaning. He pulled the covers up to their heads and brought Neil apart with his hands and lips. When Neil asked if he could reciprocate, Andrew nodded and let Neil’s hands wander over his body. As he came, Neil’s name was on his lips, loud and clear despite the others in the room with them, and Neil felt like himself completely for the first time since the day had started.

At eight. Nicky and Kevin woke up. If they noticed Andrew and Neil’s disheveled state, they didn’t point it out; they seemed like they knew what day today was. Kevin brewed coffee and Nicky helped with making a better breakfast than usual. By the time Neil had stepped out of the shower, they were both going on as normal, their eyes purposefully not meeting Neil’s for too long.

“Morning,” Nicky said, cheerful even though his eyes didn’t match his mood. He put a plate of pancakes covered in chocolate syrup in front of Neil and left Neil’s mug untouched. Only Andrew knew exactly how Neil took his coffee. “Sleep well?”

Neil shrugged. “Not really. We woke up at four and I couldn’t sleep after, but Andrew helped.”

Kevin looked like he was going to say something, but decided against it and closed his mouth again. He was frowning as he went back to pay attention to his tablet—Neil could see from the corner of his eye that Kevin was studying about female-led movements in the beginning of the twentieth century and let him be. At this hour Kevin was normally checking new Exy stats or watching matches that he missed during the previous week, so he figured Kevin probably had an important test coming up. He took his own cellphone and went through new texts and emails. Recently he’d found out keeping track of his university email was a good way to be up to date with projects and assignments, and so he checked it every morning. His mind was somewhere else entirely as he did it today, but he wanted to maintain some sort of normalcy. The three of them remained silent as Kevin and Nicky finished breakfast. Neil was still halfway through his pancakes when the door to the bathroom opened.

His mug was swiped up from the table and Andrew said, “You’re not having coffee, Neil?”

Neil’s head shot up. “Oh. I forgot.”

Andrew nodded and went into the kitchen to get some for the both of them. He only came back a couple of minutes after and plopped down on his seat beside Neil. He handed Neil the mug and then took a bite out of Neil’s pancakes. They were almost cold now, but were sweet enough that Andrew didn’t complain.

“If you’re going to class today, you better leave right now, Neil,” Kevin said as he came out of the bedroom, his gaze focused on the belt he was putting on. His voice was not in lieu of warning, which was quite rare. Neil understood what was being given to him: a way out. If.

He looked from Kevin to Andrew absently and then shook his head. There was no way he could get through his classes on a day like this one, in which he could have Andrew sitting right next to him and still be clinging so desperately to the people he once was without being able to differentiate what was real, present, and what wasn’t. Kevin nodded, growled something to Nicky in the bedroom, and strolled out of the dorm.

Neil went back to eating his pancakes.

By the time he was finished, Nicky had already left the dorm and Andrew was still sitting beside him, without saying anything, his hands wrapped around his mug of coffee. Neil knew that Andrew’s eyes hadn’t left him since he’d sat down. Neil was about to ask him whether it was okay for him to miss his morning classes when he realized Andrew didn’t do anything he didn’t want to. Neil’s eyes shot up from the empty plate and he was about reach out when he noticed the number in Andrew’s jersey wasn’t his own.

“Are you wearing my shirt?” he asked, in half confusion.

“I thought that was obvious.”

Andrew said it in complete apathy, but his eyes remained focused and he didn’t blink once. Neil knew exactly what that meant, and he knew that Andrew wanted him to know this gesture hadn’t been completely random. A small smile appeared in the corners of Neil’s lips. Neil was having a hard time convincing himself that this was real, that he wasn’t just about to wake up next to his mother on bed and discover this had never happened, that his father was still alive and he was still seen as a missing asset by the Moriyamas, and so Andrew was helping him in every possible way. Calling him Neil, the name he chose to keep, at every opportunity; kissing the scars only Neil Josten could walk around with; being gentle when he was usually rough at handling Neil in bed; wearing Neil’s jersey to prove a point, not only that Neil Josten was alive and existed, but also that Andrew and he were close enough that they could share clothes, and that Andrew wasn’t ashamed of it. The world tilted closer back to normal—only a little, but enough.

Andrew saw it all going through Neil’s mind through his eyes, but he didn’t say anything. When Neil reached out and entwined their fingers together, his apathy didn’t leave him, nor did the tension on his shoulders. He knew that Neil wasn’t fine all of the sudden.

“Do you want to go somewhere?”

Neil considered. “Somewhere… Nathaniel doesn’t know about.”

Andrew nodded and got up from his chair. He told Neil to get dressed and pack an overnight bag for the two of them, and then went to the kitchen to wash the dishes. Neil didn’t know where Andrew planned for them to go, but he knew that it probably wasn’t too far away or they would have to check with Wymack. He didn’t use the duffel bag under his bed, because that had been something Nathaniel had carried with him for years; instead, he reached into the closet and pulled out an obnoxiously orange bag Dan had distributed at the start of the year.

By the time he was ready to go, Andrew had finished up at the kitchen and had sat down on his bed, only after commenting on how hideous the Foxes bag was. When Neil pointed out that Andrew had one that looked the same, Andrew replied that he had already put his on fire—a lie, since Neil had seen it thrown under a pile of Andrew’s shirts in the closet.

“Let’s go, junkie, or we’re going to miss practice tomorrow,” Andrew said, but he didn’t sound particularly concerned about it. He got up from the bed without hurry and his fingers brushed at the back of the shirt Neil was wearing—he’d put on Andrew’s jersey at some point, but Andrew had told him to take it off. Though he wanted Neil to be close to the family he had found at Palmetto, he said, that didn’t mean they had to go around campus matching like two idiots. He’d said that with such scorn on his face that Neil didn’t even get upset; he simply laughed, nodded, and put on something else.

They were nearly out the door when it occurred to Neil that leaving some kind of note was better than simply disappearing; the team knew about his tendencies to slip out when things got too intense and, considering the last time went MIA they’d found him in another city looking half dead, he figured it would keep them from worrying. He took one of Nicky’s neon pink post-its and wrote down that he and Andrew would be out until tomorrow, but would come back in time for practice. Then, before he walked back to the door where Andrew was waiting, he turned and went for the bedroom again. He put on his armbands and moved back towards the exit.

“Are you done, or are you trying to compete with Allison on who can take the longer to get ready?” Andrew spat.

Neil ignored him and pressed the button to the elevator. Mostly everyone from the Tower had already left, and those who hadn’t were probably staying inside their dorms, anyway. Appreciating he didn’t have to share the elevator with anyone else but Andrew, he pulled on Andrew’s wrist and looked into his eyes as he entwined their fingers together. Since Andrew let him do it, Neil figured today was one of Andrew’s better days, and, as they had discussed before, Neil wouldn’t have to keep asking for permission for holding hands or leaning a little closer as they walked.

“Where are we going?” Neil asked as they entered the car.

“Columbia,” Andrew deadpanned. “Nathaniel doesn’t have any memories there.”

Nodding, Neil buckled up and let silence overtake the car. He rested his head on the window and, when the view of a road and complete lack of conversation—just in case someone was nearby—hit a little too close to home, he turned to look at Andrew. Normally things didn’t affect him as much or reminded him of his time as a runaway, but it was impossible not to be constantly on edge at a day like this.

Neil felt a little stupid for overreacting to everything. It wasn’t like his mother ever cared about his birthday, moving through the day caring more about the possibility of Nathan’s men getting close than about her son turning an year older; the most affectionate thing he could remember her doing during one of his birthdays was pressing him close on the bed and kissing him on the top of his head, a half smug grin on her lips as she said, “One more year and your father still hasn’t found us.” It was never about him, always about Nathan and the Moriyamas. But still.

He put his hand over Andrew’s on the gearshift stick and said, quietly, “Okay?”

Andrew merely responded by humming and didn’t look away from the road. Eventually, however, he must have realized something was wrong, because he looked back to Neil for a second and asked, “Neil?” Neil, Neil, Neil. He never seemed to forget.

“You know, I’m glad that you’re here with me. I don’t think I’ll be able to keep him away all day long without your help,” Neil said. It wasn’t the answer to the question Andrew had made, but he didn’t feel like sharing just about everything he was thinking. He knew Andrew would understand.

“Whatever I can do to keep that fucker away. You’re insufferable enough.”

“Actually, you seem invested enough in helping me get myself together. It almost seems like you care.”

“Your smart mouth ever get a break?”

Neil smiled. “Never.”


	5. "I saw you wanted this to end"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “eduarda why did it take so long for you to answer this??” because im an ass, that’s why. this is 2.5k tho,, to make it up 2 u

Neil Josten had endured a lot of pain in his relatively short life. At the age of ten he knew how to properly hold of a knife and how to cut someone’s throat open in the most basic, quickest way if there ever came the necessity to use it. His mother had never kept a light hand when punishing him for his childish insubordination, and turned a blind eye whenever he came home bruised and hurting after one of his sessions with Lola—she had been charged with teaching him how to fight.

Baltimore shone a new light on his perception of pain. Now he barely twitched at Andrew’s instigating shots at his feet during practice and whenever there was a bruise from a harder check during the games, Abby was the one to let him know it was there. It wasn’t that he had gone back to ignoring his injuries; he’d just had the worst there was, and these could only be classified as minor inconveniences.

Neil Josten had endured a lot of pain his relatively short life, but nothing had ever hurt inside his chest like this.

It started the summer before Andrew’s senior year; he and Neil were staying at Columbia before classes returned, with the house to themselves since Nicky was off in Germany, Aaron in some romantic destination with Katelyn, and Kevin crashing at Wymack’s to reconstruct their relationship, now as father and son.

The start of their vacation was great: Andrew had come to the conclusion they were ready to take their relationship to the next level when it came to sex and he had the entire summer to experiment with Neil. The first few weeks were everything Neil could have hoped for; Andrew was in a mix of vulnerability and assertiveness, but Neil didn’t mind his mood swings, because he knew that Andrew was trying. It was the apathy that came next, when it came closer to the start of classes, that worried him.

He knew, rationally, that Andrew’s apathy probably came from his fear of giving too much of himself to someone, but once the soft kisses and “yes or no” became a rarity, it was impossible not to blame himself. Was he only as interesting as his body? Neil started this relationship only for the physical pleasure that could come from it, and though his feelings had evolved to the point in which thinking about Andrew’s last year as Fox left him hollow-eyed and blue, maybe Andrew’s hadn’t.

Was it possible for Andrew to say yes if Neil didn’t mean as much as Neil thought he did?

“Don’t be an idiot, Abram,” Andrew said when Neil questioned him about it. For two days they went back to where they were at the start of summer, with Andrew clinging onto Neil desperately as if trying to convince himself that this was what he wanted. That wasn’t what Neil wanted, however; he wanted Andrew to know.

The thought came to him three nights before they were supposed to pick Kevin up from Wymack’s and move back into the Fox Tower, and it caused him to go restless for the time left he had in Columbia. Neil reprehended himself every time the thought resurfaced—he needed more from Andrew than uncertainty. When Andrew went away from Palmetto, he needed to know he was wanted the same way he wanted Andrew. Realizing this was what he felt left him shaking; Andrew had gone through too much, given to much of himself away, and he needed time to understand his own feelings. It had been years and Andrew had trusted Neil more than he had ever trusted anybody else. Neil didn’t want to take, take, take, and pressure when he didn’t receive. The situation was chaotic before he could name it.

The first one to notice something was off was Aaron. He was quiet, always turning away whenever Andrew and Neil displayed affection, but he observed nevertheless. When he moved back to Palmetto and was shot down at his proposition to switch rooms with Andrew and Neil while Matt didn’t come, he knew something was wrong. At first he didn’t mention it. Then the situation was too frustrating; practice didn’t go as smoothly as it had for the past two years, Eden’s had become more tense than fun, and seeing his brother’s relationship being ruined by hesitation provoked more feelings than he thought was capable of feeling for Andrew and Neil.

“Did you two break up and forgot to tell us?” He asked one night at Sweetie’s, seemingly unconcerned and completely out of the blue. Andrew glared and Neil sulked, Nicky stared wide-eyed and Kevin looked suspicious.

Neil took a deep breath to say something but Andrew squinted and said, “No.” His gaze moved to meet Neil’s and then changed to Neil’s hand over the table. He looked like he was going to put his own hand over it, but he didn’t.

Everything snowballed; they didn’t mention it because they were afraid of the consequences but the distance grew as time passed and they forced themselves to pretend things hadn’t changed. When Neil climbed to the top bunk instead of laying with Andrew as he had been doing for the past year, he claimed that it was because the single mattress couldn’t accommodate the two of them; when he rode the backseat instead of shotgun, he mumbled about the length of Kevin’s legs being much larger than his, and therefore Kevin needed the space; and when he didn’t go up to the rooftop, he made up a story about college staff coming up to check for intruders. Andrew never acknowledged any of his lies, and so he kept on making them up.

It was during a practice day that things reached the breaking point: Jack slammed Neil into a wall, and Andrew didn’t come to his aid. He stayed at the goal and only looked mildly interested in the commotion at the center of the court. When Kevin dragged Neil out and into Abby’s office, Andrew didn’t so much as look into Neil’s eyes.

That afternoon, Neil knocked on Aaron and Matt’s door and asked to trade rooms again. Aaron whined about Katelyn being in the same space as Andrew, but Neil must have made a face, because it was a matter of minutes until Aaron had shut up and started to pack his things. Neil waited until he knew Andrew wasn’t at the dorm to do the same to his. It didn’t take more than a few hours for things to go back to the way they were; the monsters, the upperclassmen, and Neil.

Neil was sound asleep on that first night when the door to the bedroom slammed open, and he jumped at the noise. He had started for a gun under his pillow, reminisces of his time as a runaway, when he heard a low voice say, “Out.” There was a lot of movement but it quickly stopped, followed only by the sound of the door being opened, closed and locked.

Andrew turned the light on. His face was as blank as always, but there was more emotion in his eyes than it had been in a long time. He crossed his arms and stared pointedly at the half-empty suitcase under Neil’s bed.

“Were you just going to move out and not tell me about it?”

Neil sighed. He put his hands over his eyes and rubbed them until sleep had left him, at least partially. He didn’t look up to meet Andrew’s gaze but he said, in a quiet tone, “You obviously don’t want me there, anyway.”

There was a scoff from the other side of the room.

“Oh,” Neil started, indignant, and finally took his face away from his hands to stare at Andrew. “So you’re going to say I’m wrong, like you always do? Call me a damn idiot like you didn’t just push me away like you do anyone else? Fuck you.”

Andrew’s eyes fired up. “Calm,” he said, slowly, clenching and unclenching his fists, “down.”

“What does it matter, anyway? You don’t want them to know we’re fighting or—they know, Andrew. Everyone knows. You’ve been looking for an out since Columbia. We had fun, I grew attached, you grew bored, and then you moved along and forgot to send me the memo. I saw you wanted this to end long before I made the decision to move back in with Matt. Or do you think Aaron agreed out of the kindness of his heart?”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

It was Neil’s turn to scoff, but he sat on the bed, resting his elbow on one of his legs. “Enlighten me.”

Andrew’s eyes narrowed. He looked like he wanted to say something, but in the end went against it. Instead, he pulled out a cigarette from his back pocket and put it to his lips. He didn’t light it, probably because of the Tower’s anti-smoke system, but it seemed to take away at least a little of the tension on his shoulders. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

“Alright, then kindly get the fuck out of my—”

“You haven’t touched me in months, Neil,” Andrew said, and he sounded a little desperate. He ran his fingers through his blond hair, found that it was knotted, and put his hand back down. “Every time we go out you can’t seem to stand being close to me. I leave the door to the roof open and you don’t show. Did you think I was going to beg?”

 _Yes, I did_. Neil almost said the words, but he caught himself before they made it past his lips. Andrew was bad at showing his emotions, but Neil was just as stubborn. Andrew didn’t beg and neither did he. Neil licked his lips and moved to push his feet off his bed.

“You took me to Columbia, made me the happiest I’ve ever been, then threw me the fuck away. I expected you to do a little more than that.”

A pause. “I’m going away, Neil.”

“What the fuck does that have to do with it?”

“Everything—” Andrew frowned. He uncrossed his arms, fished the cigarette from between his lips and then let his hands hang on his sides. “You’re going to stay here, meet new people, and then you’re going to whatever corner of the country your little junkie heart takes you.” He didn’t have to add anything else, because Neil understood: _And you’re going to realize I’m not the best you can have._

Neil took a while to process the information. “Why would you push me away for that?”

“Seeing as you’re not going to need me anymore, I don’t see a reason as to why I’d hang around you when we’re gonna be written off from each other’s lives in a few months.”

“Ever heard of long distance?”

“I don’t see why I’d need that with you. It’s a myth, anyway.”

“Nicky and Erik have been at it for years,” Neil noted. “We could do it. Get a place halfway from here and wherever you sign off to. Meet on the weekends. Go to each other’s games.”

Andrew blinked. “That would be a lot of effort for someone whose face I don’t want to see ever again after I graduate. You’re just a pain in my ass. Even now,” he stated. “Even now that you wrote me off the same way they all did and I forced myself not to care—even now you manage to give me a fucking headache. They should give an award for that.”

Neil looked exasperated. “If you forced yourself not to care, then what the fuck are you doing here? I’m _trying_ to get the fuck over you, I’m _trying_ not to resent looking at you and knowing you got me then got bored of me, but if you’re just going to come into my dorm—”

“Aaron and Matt’s dorm.”

“—and say all this shit to me and fuck with my head… Fuck, Andrew. Fuck. I got attached and you should have told me you wanted this to keep being about sex. I kept reading into every little thing you said honestly convinced myself you _cared_ , that you were trying, and even now I think I’m sounding fucking ridiculous and whiny, but either I’m right or you’re unwilling to give away _an inch_ , and if that’s how it is, if you feel something for me but you’re going to let it all go to fucking ruins, then I don’t want a relationship with you. Not like this. Not with me feeling and showing and you bottling everything away and acting like I don’t matter whenever you get scared. I just want you to tell me. If that’s how it is, I don’t want it, and you can get out of my dorm.”

“Aaron and Matt’s dorm,” Andrew said again, but this time he sounded stutter-y. “If you want it—Fine. _Fine_. You want to live in some utopic fantasy about this working out after I go pro, I’ll entertain you. I have self-destructive tendencies, anyway. You’re the one who’s gonna fall on your face and not see it coming,” he spat.

Andrew played with the cigarette between his fingers for a few moments before taking definite steps towards the bed Neil was half sitting on. He didn’t back out even when his knees bumped into Neil’s, and eventually met the corner of the mattress when Neil opened his legs to situate Andrew between them.

“Let’s go back to our dorm.”

Neil bit on his lower lip and looked vaguely at the wall behind Andrew.

Andrew took a deep breath. “What?”

“I think I’m gonna crash here while we settle things,” he said, and it sounded like a question. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m gonna crash here. You and I are going to start things over and this time I’m not going to be dependent and you unattached. I’ll move right back after you stop pushing me away.”

“Fuck no.”

“Yes, Andrew,” Neil said, decisive. “Last time we were together for a long period of time you freaked out and pushed me away with all your preconceived ideas that you’re worth nothing. You and I are going to get our shit together, and then we’re going to go back to how things were before. I’m not gonna back out on this.”

Andrew pocketed his cigarette and played absently with his stubble. “I don’t think I have much of a choice here,” he said finally. His hand fell to Neil’s shoulder. “Yes or no?”

Neil smiled faintly. “Yes.”


	6. "Kiss me"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous: Andreil "kiss me" pls and thx!!

After walking in circles for thirty minutes and then taking misguided directions from an old woman who didn’t seem to know the difference between left and right, Neil Josten was ready to admit that he was lost. Had his shitty phone been charged, he would have been able to make out the streets he was in and start towards his boyfriend’s apartment, but Neil had, as usual, set out to a surprise trip to Boston without packing his charger. That left him with a limited number of options: he had already tried asking for directions from the few people out in the streets of the fairly abandoned neighborhood he was in, but maybe he could find one of the larger avenues and look for someone who knew where they were going, or he could ditch the surprise element of the trip and call Andrew and ask to be picked up.

Neil wasn’t anything if not stubborn, but he came to the conclusion, after much deliberation, that being out in the streets of an unfamiliar city while the sun was setting made him easy prey. Andrew wouldn’t care so much about the good intentions he’d had with this trip if he turned up robbed or worse. Slowly, Neil turned back a couple of streets to where he’d seen a payphone. His mind wandered; if he called for a cab, was there a chance they’d be able to track him down and come get him? No, that was out of the question. He had absolutely no idea where he was. Did he know any of the Titans’ numbers from the top of his head? There was no reason to. He sighed.

The phone rang twice. Voicemail came. Neil sighed again. He pulled another coin from his pocket and redialed. He knew Andrew enough to know that he’d pick up soon enough. Andrew hated talking on the phone, so he barely answered calls from unknown numbers, but he’d learned throughout the years that more than a couple of calls meant something urgent. Neil hoped Andrew weren’t sleeping. The Titans had had their first death match of the season last night and Andrew had played like his life was on the line. It was nearly seven in the night already but Andrew had a habit of spending the day in bed after a game night.

After spending four coins on the payphone, the ringing came to a halt and only silence greeted Neil. He rolled his eyes. “Andrew?”

He heard Andrew’s breath catching. “Why are you calling from my state?”

“Because I’m here,” Neil said. “Wherever here is. I’m lost. Come get me before I get jumped.”

“Why are you—Neil, how am I supposed to come get you when you don’t know where you are? Tell me what you see. I’m leaving the apartment right now.”

“Okay,” Neil mumbled. “I’m—ah,” he said awkwardly. “There’s nothing here? Just houses, but they’re old and there seems to be a couple of squatters around, but that’s basically it. I’ve been walking for three hours, but I don’t think I moved much. I’m probably close to the airport, but I don’t see any airplanes nearby.”

“You’re not close to the airport, then. Idiot,” Andrew barked. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I would have picked you up and we would have been at my place for hours, now.”

Neil made a sound that was half a whine, half an apology. He put his bottom lip out the way Andrew said made him look like a little kid. “I wanted to make a surprise.”

There was a long moment of silence. “Can you at least remember which streets you took? So I can come to you.”

“If I could I would be at the airport right now, wouldn’t I.” Neil deadpanned. “Wait, there’s someone—stay on the line, I’ll ask for the address—”

Neil ran away from the payphone and turned around the corner where he’d seen a teenager cross the street. He caught the boy opening an iron gate to an old house needing painting, and let out a half-shout to get him to halt before entering the property. The boy looked around the street and, when he caught sight of Neil, his expression turned wary.

Years since he’d last had to take care of himself in unfamiliar places had made Neil awkward at talking to strangers, but he schooled his features into the least threatening expression he could and got the address to the street where the payphone was. He thought of giving the boy a couple of dollars but in the end went with a simple thanks. When he got back to phone hanging from its place, the call had already finished, so he took another coin from his pocket and dialed Andrew’s number again. This time Andrew answered after a single tone. He seemed more annoyed than he was before.

Andrew didn’t know where the address was, so he had to hang up so he could check the GPS on his phone. After years with their flip phones, Andrew had given in to smart phones with the pretense that he and Neil needed better communication than phone calls and that he needed to actually look at Neil to make sure he hadn’t injured himself. Still, Neil’s habits towards phones hadn’t changed. If he remembered to charge his once a week, that was too much. It made Andrew furious.

Neil sat on the curb waiting for over twenty minutes, looking back and forth on the street in case someone was out to jump him. He felt stupid for managing to get so lost. He’d been in Boston before; Andrew had been playing for the Titans for two years now and his visits had increased frequency since he’d signed with the Dragons in Chicago a year ago. Andrew usually picked him up from the airport when he came and it should have been easy remembering the way to Andrew’s apartment, which was so close to the Titans’ stadium. In fact, Neil had been there when Andrew scouted it for the first time, making observations and giving opinions on whether that was good enough for renting.

The headlights of Andrew’s car appeared twenty-five minutes later and Neil let out a huge sigh. He pushed up from the curb and stretched his arms over his head. After making through the first two death matches of the season, the Dragons would have two months without games and three weeks without practice. Neil intended on spending the entirety of his time off hanging around Andrew’s apartment and going to his games to show support. It had been a while since they’d last been there for each other’s games. Neil wanted a bit normalcy back in his life.

Andrew stopped the car in front of the payphone and for a long while simply looked at Neil with an unimpressed expression. Neil couldn’t see clearly through the glass of the car, but the annoyance seemed to have vanished from Andrew’s eyes. He let out an apologetic smile. Andrew finally moved and opened the door slowly. He’d grown buffer since he’d first moved to Boston, and that made him look a little taller than he actually was. When he stopped in front of Neil, inches away, Neil realized he didn’t have to look down anymore to look Andrew in the eye.

He opened his mouth to say hi, but the intensity of Andrew’s gaze stopped him before he could. Andrew looked assessing rather than irritated, like he did whenever Neil did something nice to him. Neil didn’t bother to point it out anymore. Andrew was working on seeing himself as worthy and that was enough for him. The two of them stared into each other’s eyes for a fairly long time—enough that Neil felt worried someone would come out of the shadows and into Andrew’s car through the still open door.

“Well,” Neil begun, his voice almost hoarse. “Kiss me.”

Andrew looked at him for another few seconds, but he took a step forward and complied. They’d been together for long enough to have established safe spots. Neil was always pliant underneath Andrew’s touch, but Andrew still needed some time to process it was Neil in front of him and there was no possible threat. Still, Andrew’s instincts had changed around Neil enough that Neil was allowed to touch his hair, his neck, his arms and his upper chest without needing extra permission. The first time they’d agreed to it Neil’s heart had pounded so hard Andrew had pushed away from him just to call him an idiot. Now, Neil’s heart nearly melted. It felt like coming home.

Andrew bit on his lower lip to break the kiss, but even as he moved back, he still had one hand around Neil’s wrist. His eyes said he was glad Neil was here, though he’d never truly speak it. He spoke instead, “I’ll take your suitcase. Let’s go home.”

Neil nodded and had to suppress a smile. Andrew sometimes said things like this, which let Neil know how safe he truly was to Andrew. Five years ago Andrew barely had a notion of home. That he would share his with Neil was surreal.

Neil sat down on the passenger seat slowly, surely. He thought of his mother and what she would think of him now. He didn’t care. It overwhelmed him that he was allowed this. Neil’s eyes followed Andrew putting his suitcase in the trunk through the rearview mirror. Andrew locked eyes with him and his shoulders were relaxed. Home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyway i forgot to add to this and now theres like 5 to add at once


	7. "Life was so much easier when I hated you."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous: ooo #27 [from [here](http://hexrmionegranger.tumblr.com/post/154747493336)] andreil pls!!!!

There was a crowd around the apartment when Andrew got home from the gym. He was only confused for a moment; the press hadn’t come to bother him before and it seemed incomprehensible that they would at a time like this, when he and Neil were in their off-season and the news of his transfer had already been thoroughly digested by the fans and the press. When he looked out through the window, however, his confusion vanished completely. He’d overheard something about a coming-out scandal of an Exy player from the TV at the gym he’d just come from.

Come to think of it, Andrew should have guessed an Exy scandal of this caliber had involved Neil at least indirectly. It had been over eight years since he’d debuted as a smart-mouthed striker in front of the cameras and so far his track record with the press hadn’t improved much.

In Andrew’s opinion–and unsurprisingly Kevin’s–it had, in fact, worsened. Ever since he’d opened his mouth three years ago to talk shit about Andrew, then goalkeeper of a team rival to the one Neil had recently signed with, things between them and the press had gone downhill. The Josten-Minyard rivalry, they’d called it. Andrew thought it was the worst thing invented and refused to acknowledge it when asked about it. It didn’t help that the old Foxes teared up in laughter when it was mentioned and that Neil went on a rant about post-game interviews not having anything to do with the players’ personal lives. The public worked with what it had–their perfomance on court, the stories of half-friendly banter in the locker room, and the constant growling when playing against one another. Neil had admitted once he did not blame them for coming to the conclusion that they hated each other.

At first, Neil had fount the idea of their relationship being anything but romantic both hilarious and endearing. He’d even found himself feeding the press with good-natured provocations to Andrew before games, only to see their reactions later. Over the years, however, Neil’s humor had blemished and the constant prodding turned out to be nothing but irritating. Andrew had come to walk out of interviews whenever a reporter mentioned Neil in a way that wasn’t as just another skilled striker he had to go against. They had come to silent agreement–them and the Foxes–to pretend the rivalry didn’t exist anymore. And so the murmuring had diminished considerably.

Andrew had thought the rivalry was on its way to the grave, but he hadn’t realized that as potential US Court players they were still watched as hawks. When the distance between Illinois and Massachusetts became too much, he and Neil were quick to decide that Andrew would be transferring to the Chicago Dragons without giving a second thought about the abruptness of it and how it would look to the public eye. Soon they learned they should not have been so carefree at discussing the transfer; the press and fans were having the time of their lives plotting theories on why Andrew would so suddenly choose to play alongside the man who had once been considered his greatest enemy on court.

He and Neil had then discussed the possibility of their relationship being outed to the public. It was not something worrying per se; they had never gone to great lengths to hide what they had. Still, the thought of having their privacy invaded so thoroughly by the press annoyed both of them. Andrew had known it was inevitable that they would one day be in the news, but had agreed with Neil that things would happen when they should, and neither of them would interfere in it.

He should have known it would be Neil’s fault.

As he opened the door of the car, annoyed at Neil for opening his big mouth and for taking the underground parking spot underneath their building, Andrew glared at the reporters and growled that he had no comments on the matter. If this were a few years ago it would have been enough to make the reporters cower and leave him alone. Incidentally, however, he’d been advised by Neil and his old coach to be more sociable and answer the reporters’ questions with answers that went further than a simple monosyllabic word, and now they didn’t see him as a borderline-psychotic man anymore. As he went around the car to take his bag from the trunk, he had to grit his teeth as the reporters and fans crowded around him, touching frequently enough that Andrew had to focus on keeping his hands from shaking.

He shoved aside the reporters and cameramen who were on his way and marched towards the front door of his and Neil’s building. Andrew wasn’t sure yet whether they knew they lived together, but he figured by now at least one person had gone up to the doorstep and seen Minyard/Josten written beside the intercom button to the penthouse. Andrew tapped the password to open the glass doors and hid behind a pillar as he waited for the elevator to come down to the first floor.

He was going to kill Neil and his big mouth.

When he finally got to his apartment, the suspicious smell of pancakes was in the air and one of the songs Andrew liked the most was playing in a bearable volume. Andrew huffed immediately; Neil couldn’t be stupid enough to think he’d be forgiven with some food and music. Andrew dropped his keys and bag on the ground with a loud noise, knowing fully well how much Neil hated when he left things at the doorstep, and waited for the sweet welcome-home that he was sure to get.

Predictably, Neil appeared at the kitchen doorway without a shirt on and a smirk that he knew Andrew liked. Usually that would be enough for Andrew to crowd him against the doorway and greet him with slow, unheated kisses, but today Andrew was more annoyed than he was horny. He threw an unimpressed gaze Neil’s way.

“Sex isn’t gonna get you out of this. Go put something on,” he growled. “You better have a good explanation for this. I can’t be the only one who remembers our talk from just a month ago about not telling the press anything.”

Neil put his hands up between him and Andrew. The smirk he was trying to suppress was infuriating. “I do,” he said, then pointed his head towards the television where part of an interview with him was playing. Andrew couldn’t hear what Neil was saying over the music playing around the apartment, but he’d known Neil for long enough to know when he was bad-mouthing an interviewer. He figured this had been when Neil had slipped up about their relationship. “She called you a psychopath.”

Andrew snarled. “All these years and you still haven’t learned not to defend me.”

“It’s our new deal, isn’t it, though?” Neil half-mumbled. “We have each other’s backs.”

“Not on live TV,” Andrew said. He pulled out his phone from his pocket and turned it off. It had been vibrating since he’d got home and it connected to the Wi-Fi.

Neil shrugged.

“‘Long-term rivals Minyard and Josten in a committed relationship. How did they manage to fool us all?’” Andrew read from the television. He turned to stare back at Neil. “Life was so much easier when I hated you.”

“I thought you still did,” Neil said. “Last I checked I was back at the hundreds.”

Andrew rolled his eyes and started towards the balcony for a cigarette. “Not publicly,” he said.

Neil smirked. “Not publicly.”


End file.
